


simple mistake

by Faye_Reynolds



Series: tumblr pairing/au prompts [41]
Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:54:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22200613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faye_Reynolds/pseuds/Faye_Reynolds
Summary: “Put the knife down…I’m not going to hurt you.” / You’re a spy sent to kill whoever lives here but I just moved in and you may be a hired killer but you’re also really attractive and my self-preservation is at zero!au
Relationships: Brad Colbert/Nate Fick
Series: tumblr pairing/au prompts [41]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/920394
Comments: 1
Kudos: 40





	simple mistake

Brad waits silently in the dark in a house that’s not his. He knows its dramatic, maybe overly so, but his line of work can be monotonous, and he takes his joys where he can. He gets wistful sometimes, he’ll admit, because people think being a hired gun is all action and adrenaline, but really it’s a lot of watching and waiting. Like he’s doing right now. So, he figures he’d mess with his target tonight and surprise them when they turn on the light upon entering the safety of their home.

The job was thrown at him only hours ago. A short email from the agency with orders to terminate the target that lived here. A short, stout man in his fifties that had been funding gun-running for years but only was just connected to larger operation earlier this day. He had to hand it to his work, the agency wasted no time in eliminating the bad guys.

He hears a car door slam and boots approach the front door.

He tightens the silencer, checks his safety is off and waits with his gun poised and sitting casually on the front staircase.

Nate notices something off from the half boot print in the mud of the bush next to his front door. He grabs the knife from his back pocket and holds it with the blade pointed outward, ready to strike, as he unlocks the door.

Even in the pitch-black darkness of his new home, he can tell that someone is here that shouldn’t be, sitting on his stairs.

He slowly set his keys and bag down, feigning ignorance.

Knife still in hand, he reaches for the light switch and braces himself.

The light flicks on. He turns quickly and is met with a long-legged, calm, blonde force. He laughs inwardly that his first thought isn’t “This man is going to kill me,” but rather “The man here to kill me is really attractive.”

He refocuses as the man’s face turns from calm indifference to annoyed confusion. Then, and only then, does his notice the gun aimed directly at his heart.

“Who are you? What do you want?” Nate asks firmly. He’s been out of the military for a while, but the training is not something you outgrow or forget.

The man rolls his eyes as he flicks his safety back on.

Nate watches the blonde stand up, impossibly taller as he stands on the bottom step of the staircase.

“Back off asshole. I’m a Marine.” Nate orders, knife poised to strike as soon as the intruder takes a step too close. The safety may be off, but a man like this could probably kill Nate with a paper clip.

The intruder smiles, sharp and dangerous, “Semper Fi.”

Nate balks at that.

The man speaks again, softer this time, “Put the knife down…I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Says the dick who broke into my home and just had a gun aimed at me.” Nate holds his knife tighter.

“My name is Brad if you wouldn’t mind using that instead of childish superlatives.”

Nate scoffs. The audacity.

Still, he figures Brad is the perfect name for a man with his stature and physique. Nate doesn’t realize he’s been staring at the man in front of him and lets his guard down until he feels the knife pulled from his grip in a smooth transfer.

“Good.” Brad comments, the proximity making Nate’s heart race, from adrenaline or attraction he’s not sure.

Brad continues, “Now technically, this isn’t supposed to be your home. This is supposed to be the home of Charles Whitman. A gunrunner and weapons dealer to a domestic, backwoods militia responsible countless terror attacks throughout the country.”

Nate’s eyes widen.

“I moved in a few weeks ago. I was told the previous owners moved uptown.”

Brad sighs heavily.

“For what it’s worth, this has never happened. I’m sorry for the disruption.”

Nate stares at Brad for a long time before he burst into uncontrollable laughter.

Brad looks at him like he’s lost his mind or is in shock or both.

“Disruption?” Nate finally breathes out, “It’s not like you delivered a pizza to the wrong house. You broke in and pointed a gun at me.”

Nate laughs still and sighs as he walks casually toward the bar in the living room.

“Drink?” He calls out, still in shock and wondering why he’s invited the assassin to stay longer.

“Bourbon if you have it,” Brad replies, breaking his gun down with each piece fitting perfectly in the lining of his jacket.

Nate pours the drinks blindly watching Brad handle his gun with such practiced ease.

“You pour any more, I’ll have to spend the night.”

Nate furrows his brows in confusion then turns to look at the glasses and realizes he’s about to overpour Brad’s glass with bourbon.

“Shit!” He exclaims, attempts to mediate that problem by pouring it to other glasses with shaking hands.

Brad grabs Nates hands, knowing that the shock was wearing off and Nate needed a drink more than he did.

He places a glass in Nate’s hands and orders, “Drink.”

Nate follows and is guided to sit on his couch.

Brad soon joins him with his own glass and a second for Nate.

They sit in silence, not uncomfortable, while Nate calms down and Brad decides what the hell he’s doing.

“Feeling better?” He asks softly.

Nate laughs again and Brad realizes he still here because something about his not-target is drawing him in.

“You know, for a hired gun, you have a wonderful bedside manner.”

Brad smiles, liking the man next to him more and more as time passes. He wasn’t like anyone Brad had ever met and in his line of work, Brad’s met more people than he’d like.

“People tell me that all time,” Brad replies, deadpan.

“Really?” Nate exclaims, eyebrows rising to his forehead.

“No.”

Nate and Brad both laugh and Nate slaps Brad’s arm good-naturedly to chide him for the joke and Brad grabs it on instinct.

The contact silences the laughter and forces both men to look at one another. Brad loosens his grip on Nate’s hand

Both men are struck with how easy it is to talk to one another and how, despite how they met, comfortable they were around one another.

Brad was cautious and slow to trust by nature and by career and Nate was the same, but something about the two together was simple and felt easy and natural.

Nate smiles, “I’m Nate by the way.”

Brad leans in slowly, staring deeply into Nate’s focused eyes.

“Good to put a name to the face.”

Nate remains silent, wanting so badly to kiss Brad, but not being able to take the dive. For a trained Marine, his self-preservation was clocking in at around zero right now.

“Dinner?” Nate whispers instead, afraid anything louder would shatter the moment. His self-preservation, despite being a trained Marine, was nearing zero.

Brad smiles, lazy and warm.

“Sure.”

Nate smiles back but neither of them moves to the kitchen.

“Is this weird?” Nate asks suddenly.

“It’s unorthodox, but no, not weird.”

Brad scoots closer to Nate, drawing Nate’s gaze into his own.

“Good,” Nate laughs and pulls Brad into a kiss.

Brad returns the kiss quickly, surprised but not disappointed in how his night has turned out.

He’s about to pull Nate in closer when his phone trills in quick succession.

“Shit.”

Brad stands up and answers the phone quickly.

“Yo, yo, yo. _Bradley_.”

“Ray. You have thirty seconds.”

“Trombley got the addresses wrong. Send you new coordinates. Hopefully, you didn’t like kill someone yet.”

Brad rolls his eyes so harshly they hurt.

“I know. I didn’t. I’ll head there now. Will send a report when it’s done.”

“Sounds pimpin’, Iceman. See you back at HQ.”

Ray disconnects the call and Brad sighs.

“Duty call?” Nate asks from behind him and Brad barely manages to not to jump. The stealth of the other man impressing Brad in a way that makes him want to continue what they started on the couch.

Brad sighs, “Yeah. My team managed to fix their fuck up.”

Nate laughs, “It’s about time.”

Nate doesn’t know why he’s so casual about the fact that Brad just received an order to follow through on an assassination, but he knows orders are orders and supposes there’s a mutual understanding there.

He throws caution to the wind and grabs Brad’s hand.

“The offer for dinner still stands. When you want.” Nate smile and Brad smiles back.

Nate is pulled into a quick kiss before Brad pulls away and is out Nate’s door.

It isn’t until three weeks later when Nate sees Brad again. This time in a soft grey suit fitted perfectly. Standing in front of the screen door. With flowers.

Nae smiles but crosses his arms to indicate that he’s not happy Brad made him wait so long.

Brad looks nervous and a little uncomfortable and Nate slightly basks in it.

“Dinner?” Brad asks cautiously, worried he’s overthought their fateful meeting three weeks ago. The job had extended because his target got wind of the hit out on him. So, Brad spent the better part of a month chasing hit target across the world when he would’ve rather been with Nate.

Nate let Brad stew in his nerves just a moment longer before he smiles and pulls Brad into his arm.

“You’re in charge of the salad, Iceman.”

Brad laughs and kisses Nate.

Easy.

Simple.

Natural.

Just like he remembered and hopes it always will be.


End file.
